


unravel your days

by swallowtail (orphan_account)



Series: through the pages [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avengers Shenanigans, Clint and Tony are prank bros, Darcyland, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Light Bondage, Ribbons, slight crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 12:18:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1225939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/swallowtail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy awkwardly blows a stray lock of hair off her face. "Y'know, this seemed a whole lot sexier in my head."</p><p>***</p><p>Steve is exhausted and Darcy wants to help him 'relax'... by surprising him and wearing nothing but ribbons. Yeah, it seemed like a good idea at the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	unravel your days

Steve is exhausted.

His mind wanders as the elevator sails smoothly up Avengers Tower, his whole body slumped against the back wall. He can handle being an Avenger now, really. The missions are tiresome and never ending, but hell- he's just glad he can do what's right without SHIELD stripping him of his autonomy. But this week?

This week was pushing it.

As he drags himself through the elevator doors and into the hallway, he runs through his ridiculous week. One attempted infiltration by HYDRA agents disguised in an ice-cream truck ("Forgive me, friends... I did not think my fondness for the cream of ice would lead to this," Thor murmurs sadly), Johnny Storm lighting up half of Central Park 'by accident' ("Nice going, Bic Boy," snarks Tony), several press conferences ending horribly ("Tasha, ease up on the murder face. That's the third time you've made a reporter cry."), field equipment malfunctioning, mountains of paperwork...

And to top it all off? Tony and Clint being... well, Tony and Clint.

The two had been trying to lift the team's spirit by playing harmless jokes, which then turned into an all-out prank war. Some notorious incidents included someone bedazzling Coulson's cane, clothing disappearing and being replaced with Avengers-themed versions and - possibly the most evil - someone hiding all of the coffee.

Steve felt sorry for any trainees sparring with a decaffeinated Natasha that day.

As Steve reaches for the door handle, he freezes. The door is slightly ajar and a sliver of moonlight shines into the hallway. Steve's jaw clenches and he mentally prepares himself for what might happen next.

The last time his apartment was broken into, it was Clint's fault. And partly Tony's. After discovering Tony developed a room-sized 3D printer out of 'boredom' (seeing Han Solo frozen in carbonite last movie night definitely had nothing to do with it), Clint bribed some interns and managed to acquire a life-sized model of Loki.

Which he then dumped in Steve's kitchen. At midnight.

One shield-embedded wall and one emergency summons later - the latter the courtesy of a bemused sounding JARVIS - and a group of pyjama-clad superheroes were huddled in Steve's apartment. Clint was the last to arrive (no surprises there. He takes in Bruce's Hulk-themed boxers, Steve's shield sticking out of the wall, and Thor loudly marvelling at the wonders of Midgardian technology. He snorts.

"Wow, seriously?"

It took only three seconds of Natasha glowering at Clint in her black sleepshirt before he broke. Tony and Clint call a truce that evening ("We're definitely keeping this, though!" cackles Tony, as he points at the 'Loki' now slung over Thor's shoulders), while Steve can only rub his face in irritation.

In the end, the truce lasted 14 hours. Steve counted.

Drawn back to the present, Steve slowly opens the door and peers into his darkened apartment.

"I don't have time for this, Clint." he says, putting on his best 'I'm Captain America, and I will make you do our team reports for a week' voice on.

Nothing. Steve huffs and shuts the door behind him.

"Here we go..."

He checks the kitchen first and breathes a sigh of relief. Not even Clint is stupid enough to try the same joke twice. So he canvasses the living room, the bathroom, the hallway closet - hell, even the air ducts - and it's all clear. Which leaves only one place left.

"Shit."

Steve sprints to his bedroom and flings the door open. He winces at the sound of the handle slamming into the wall and makes a mental note to fix that later. Sitting at the foot of his bed is a large white box. A thick red ribbon is perched on top, wound in an elaborate bow. His confusion quickly turns into caution when he realises the box has holes.

 _Breathing_ holes.

Steve hops it's a really, really huge puppy or kitten or something that's definitely not alien - and then the box shakes. He's going to kill Clint if it's another weird animal he's trained.

"Ow..."

Steve drops his fighting stance. He recognises that voice. Usually it's pretty owner is cracking jokes with Tony, minding Dr. Foster ('Eat something like the rest of us humans!'), or flirting at him over lunch (which may or may not have been reciprocated). But surely he's imagining things?

The box shuffles again and this time he hears a distinct whine of 'leg cramp, leg cramp!'. Nope, definitely not imagining things.

"D-Darcy!?"

He all but tears the lid off and nearly drops it in shock.

The first thing he sees is red.

A sheepish Darcy Lewis, sitting in the box, legs tucked to her side, wearing nothing but red ribbons. Ribbons artfully wrapped around her ample curves and breasts (Breathe, Steven!), giving teasing glances of skin as it winds all the way down to her thighs.

Well. He's certainly awake now.

He must look like a slack-jawed fool, because all Darcy can do is smile (don't look at her lips, don't look at her red lips) as she stands up and stretches. Steve inhales sharply as the ribbons inch up her thighs.

"Um... Surprise?"

Steve has lost all comprehensive thought and responds with a strained noise. Darcy picks up on this, placing her hands over his box-clenching fists. Has her skin always been this soft? It's an intimate gesture which makes him realise Darcy is ranting.

"...and Pirate-Bossman has been throwing missions in your face non-stop! Not to mention Clint and Tony being stupider than usual. It's just that every time we have lunch, you look so... drained. And I can't stand it when your face looks like someone kicked your puppy or stole your shield."

Darcy can feel Steve staring at her as she bites her lip in embarrassment. A faint blush stains her cheeks and she soldiers on.

"So I wanted to help you, you know, relax a little."

Steve can't help but raise an eyebrow at that. He's pretty sure that if he looked down, they would both see that it wasn't exactly working.

"Relax?" he croaks, having regained his voice. He drops the lid and eyes her 'outfit', the corners of his mouth twitching. Darcy shifts from side to side, gauging his reaction.

"Too much, huh?"

Steve gently brushes his hands over Darcy's hips, relishing the contrast between silk and skin. He sets an agonising pace: slowly tracing over the crimson wrapped around her thighs, the curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts. Beautiful. Darcy is making small noises of pleasure every time Steve strokes a strip of naked skin - and he feels ridiculously proud about it. Satisfied with his journey, he pulls Darcy towards him as she wraps her arms around his neck.

"M'not complaining," he rasps out, and Darcy hums in agreement. She's deliciously warm against his body and he can't help nipping along her throat, drawing out moans and gasps, which spur him on. Darcy is hanging on to dear life and Steve can feel the ribbons pressing through his shirt. When he hits a sensitive spot, Darcy's knees give out in sheer pleasure, causing her to tumble out of the box and send them straight to the hardwood floor.

"Shit! Oh god, I'm so sorry! Did you hit your head?" Darcy's straddling him now, and Steve takes in the beautiful woman currently fussing over him, her hands frantically combing through his hair. The woman who slowly wove herself into his life, quoting movies and singing songs 'from his hey-day'. The woman he swapped stories and memories with, traded terrible jokes with - all while asking for nothing in return (except for many, _many_ movie nights). When Steve brings this up one lunch break, Darcy is surprised.

"Because no one deserves to be alone," she says. "And trust me- you've been a good friend to me, too. It's not easy being the only normal gal surrounded by superheroes, secret agents, and crazy, crazy scientists." She shakes her head at that last bit.

"You're pretty special yourself," Steve muses. "Who else can keep the lab explosions to a minimum and 'educate Captain America on the fine points of popular culture'?" Darcy laughs, remembering her poker-faced explanation to an amused Agent Coulson.

"Damn straight, Steve."

She beams at him, and he knows he has a stupid smile on his face too because it's the first time she's called him by his name. Not Cap or Commander.

Steve.

And before he can stop, he's laughing at how absurd this situation has become in light of something so _simple_.

Darcy's beginning to panic now- how hard _are_ these floors? Her hands move to Steve's vibrating chest as he manages to sit upright.

"Please tell me you haven't lost your mind. How am I going to explain this-" - she gestures at her body - "-to SHIELD when they find out I gave one of the Avengers a concussion?" Darcy awkwardly blows a stray lock of hair off her face. "Y'know, this seemed a whole lot sexier in my head."

Steve's laughter has died down, but he's smiling softly at Darcy as he brushes her hair back, his eyes never leaving hers and - damn, she's fallen for the guy hard.

"Thank you," he says simply, giving her a chaste kiss on the lips and embracing her tightly. Darcy squeaks, before settling her head under his neck and mumbling "You're welcome". They stay together for a while, Steve idly playing at the ribbons around Darcy's back as she inhales the smell of his body wash and - oh. Darcy draws herself up, looks down, and then grins at Steve impishly.

"So. You like the dress then, huh?"

Steve's fingers are toying with some of the ribbons which have loosened. He's smirking at Darcy, who thinks that expression should definitely be considered illegal. Or at least considered harmful to humans. She feels him tug her forward, gasping as he trails kisses down her chest. Steve resists the urge to leave marks on her skin- he wants to memorise every soft inch of Darcy. He wants to draw this out as long as possible and make her come with his name on her red lips.

"I'll take that as a yessss- _oh my god_!" Darcy exclaims as Steve hungrily sucks at her breast, one hand gliding up her thigh and the other on her waist, steadying her as she grinds onto his hardness. She's warm and oh so wet against him and that's when he realises: fuck, she's not wearing underwear. If she keeps moving like that, Steve thinks, I'm going to embarrass myself. So he groans and reluctantly pulls away. They both try to catch their breath, foreheads touching.

"I'm feeling relaxed already." Steve says, grazing his lips over Darcy's and grasping one of her hands. He's always had a thing for her hands - light, nimble fingers which have definitely starred in one of his more raunchier dreams. Steve places searing kisses on Darcy's knuckles (which earns him a sigh) and nips at her wrists (which earns him a throaty 'yes!'). He gently lowers her backwards, caging her body with his, and takes in the glorious sight.

Darcy's hands are pinned above her head: her lipstick smudged, hair messy, breasts free from their red bounds. She smirks.

"Enjoying the view, soldier?"

Steve's smile is sinful as he grabs ribbons from the box lid.

"Tell me, Darcy..." he whispers, as he unravels the bow and starts to wind it around her wrists. Darcy's getting really, _really_ excited now, because holy hell- is Steve suggesting what she thinks he is?

Steve locks his darkened eyes with hers. He smirks.

"How strong do you think these ribbons are?"

\---

"Lewis! Package just came in for you."

Clint tosses a box towards Darcy, who drops her spoon into her bowl and blindly flings out her arms. Luckily, Steve's reflexes intercept the flying projectile before it hits her square in the face. Darcy gives Steve a grateful look before returning to her cereal.

"Be a little more considerate, Clint," Steve chides. Clint waves him off and begins rummaging loudly through the pantry. He knows Darcy isn't a morning person: even more so if she had less than four hours sleep. Steve chuckles into his coffee cup.

Not that he had anything to do with it.

Darcy gives him a questioning glance, to which he responds with a wink. She smiles and rolls her eyes, turning her attention to the package. Darcy takes one look at the box before frowning.

"What the fu...? Clint, did you open this?"

Clint emerges from the pantry eating Cheerios out of the box.

"Th'tandard mail th'eck," he mumbles, before shoving another handful of cereal into his mouth. "Y'know the rul'th."

Steve and Darcy look at each other in bemusement. Well, that's complete bullshit. JARVIS has been handling the incoming mail since ever since the laughing gas incident.

"You can't go through people's mail, you weirdo," huffs Darcy, as she removes the re-sealed masking tape. Clint gives his best impression of a swallowing bird and shrugs.

"It was kinda disappointing, actually. I was expecting something more scandalous, not shitloads of-"

"Ribbons," interrupts Steve, his voice hitching.

Numerous ribbon rolls are crammed into the box, each of them varying in colours and size. Darcy picks a very familiar red roll and spins it idly in her fingers. An idea strikes Steve, and he quickly rearranges his face into a neutral mask.

"Too bad, Barton. If you wanted new gossip material for you and Tony, go airduct crawling or read a trashy magazine."

Steve gently removes roll from her fingers, staring at Darcy with the same intensity as the night before. He gives himself a mental pat on the back when she flushes.

"Why the hell do you need so many? You two have some sort of 'arts and crafts' club going on?" Clint watches as Steve casually unwinds the roll, before turning back to Darcy, who looks flustered.

"Something like that," she whispers, her eyes never leaving Steve's as he makes a show of winding the ribbon around his hands.

Clint stops chewing, observing the tension between Darcy and Steve. He narrows his eyes.

"Man, you two are acting really... weird..." Clint trails off as his sharp eyes pick up the markings around Darcy's wrists. Then glances at the ribbon clenched around Steve's hands. Finally, he stares Darcy's suspiciously large t-shirt, and Steve knows he's put two and two together when Clint's face screws up in horror.

"Oh, God!"

Clint drops his cereal box and makes a beeline out of the kitchen, muttering something about mind bleach. Darcy watches him punch open an airduct and make a hasty retreat before turning Steve, eyes twinkling. Steve drops the roll onto the counter.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

Steve shrugs innocently, his hands already reaching for her waist.

"He'll get over it."

Darcy swats his hands away, and Steve sighs.

"Okay, I'll make sure he keeps his mouth shut." He gives Darcy his best puppy face. "Now will you let me hold you?"

Darcy pretends to think hard before giving Steve a filthy grin.

"Depends, soldier. I think you need to be punished for that stunt."

Steve's breath hitches as Darcy picks a roll of sparkly blue ribbon from the box and lets it dangle from her finger. He grins.

"Yes, ma'am."

\---

The missions begin to slow down a little as the bad guys thin out and Fury's mood improves. Steve takes it upon himself to spend his newly acquired free time courting Darcy- funnily enough, it's no different from before. Except for maybe the inclusion of dinner dates and secret make-out sessions during the day.

Steve's energy must be contagious, because everyone is finally beginning to perk up. Coulson somehow convinces SHIELD accountants to allocate ice-cream funds to Avengers Tower, 'minimizing further infiltration attempts via food services' (and not because a certain Asgardian has a sweet tooth). The team doesn't butt heads with the Fantastic Four for once, the 'Loki' statue ends up in the training range, and Natasha manages to make conference journalists only mildly uncomfortable.

Clint keeps his mouth shut for a week before he outs them during a team meeting: a week longer than Steve expected. No one is surprised at the revelation and no one believes that Steve and Darcy are having 'kinky arts and crafts time'. Except maybe Natasha, who gives Darcy a small smile and nod of approval during Clint's dramatic recount of 'the ribbon event'.

Steve takes the knowing grins, winks, and whispers directed to the two of them with pride. Even Tony's jabs at Steve for 'arts and crafts time' don't get under his skin.

(He may have let slip to Bruce that Tony was responsible for his new Hulk-themed wardrobe. Seeing Tony splutter "What the hell is this!?" at his now rhinestone-covered armour a few days after was worth it.)

Because when Steve trudges into the elevator after another long battle, he's knows he'll come home to Darcy's brilliant smile, dinner, and a movie. They'll huddle together on the couch, Darcy will fall asleep on Steve's chest, and he'll gently carry her to bed. He'll kiss her goodnight, draw the covers over them both, and let the smell of Darcy's hair guide his dreams.

His phone beeps.

[ _Hey, handsome. Dinner's ready- see you in five?_ ]

He smiles and leans his head against the back wall as the elevator lurches up.

Steve is exhausted.

And he's never been happier.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, Darcyland. Here's my first (rather pervy) contribution because I love you all so much. x


End file.
